An Earful
by Bookworm10
Summary: A coda to War Stories. Book tries to offer Mal guidance.


Disclaimer: The Firefly 'verse is the property of Joss Whedon, Tim Minear and the good people at Mutant Enemy. Thanks, folks. Keep flying.

Author's note: This is my first fan fiction. I didn't really set out to write it: it just sorta wrote itself. Still, if you want to write reviews, go ahead and direct them at me.

* * *

"Wash?" Shepherd Book hesitated at the bridge's hatch and poked his head in, peering in solicitously. He stopped suddenly, surprised. "Oh . . . Captain! I'm sorry. I heard somebody up here and assumed it was Wash."

Mal, seated in the pilot's chair, looked up from the stegosaurus in his hand and blinked at the Preacher. "Uh, no, Shepherd. Wash's with Zoe. Figure that's best."

Book nodded and took a few steps forward, unsure if he was intruding. "I thought maybe he needed to talk. You know . . . after the ordeal with Niska." The cuts and bruises on the captain's face accentuated his pallor. The Shepherd couldn't stop himself from adding, "I might be overstepping my bounds by saying so, but you look done in, Captain. You really should be in bed."

Mal clenched his jaw and glared at the older man. "I reckon yer right, Preacher," he snapped. Then he breathed out deeply and conceded, "On both scores. But resting don't come easy when there's so much to mull over. For starters, we're hard up for money, our contacts must think we double-crossed 'em, and Niska is still out there. Once he stops pissing himself, he'll send men looking. Bad enough we have the Alliance looking for River--no need to be courtin' further trouble."

"None of that can be solved tonight. Give yourself some time to recover."

"I'm fine," Mal snapped. Then, quite transparently, Book thought, he changed the subject. "Like yourself, Preacher, I'm worried about Wash--'bout both him and Zoe. I reckon Wash is strong, and he'll come through this all the stronger--but if he comes through it all growed up . . . well, Zoe is gonna miss him. She needs him to play with dinosaurs and the like." He glanced down at his hands. "He keeps the darkness at bay."

Book leaned against the doorway, hoping that Mal would continue. He didn't often find the captain in a communicative mood. In fact, never. "Yes, he does." Then he steeled himself and asked, "But what keeps your darkness at bay?"

Mal gave no indication he'd heard the question. He stared out across Wash's console, the dinosaur turning over and over in his hands. "Kaylee ain't looked me in the eye since I got off the skyplex." He swallowed before going on, and there was a hint of suppressed tears in his eyes. "She ought never've been in that fight! Bad enough Wash had to pick up a gun and rush right back in after all Zoe and I done to get him outta there."

"Well, son, there was no stopping either of them."

"Yeah. I s'pose." Mal paused. Book waited him out. Finally, Mal turned the chair to face the preacher. "I'm grateful, Shepherd, that you were there lookin' out for 'em. Zoe said you gave a good account of yourself . . . preacher or no."

"I once swore that I would never take a gun up again, Captain. But vows that I made in the monastery seem naive--even selfish--since I boarded Serenity. Try as I might to make you change your ways and think more on God, I find that I'm the one questioning my commitment. It is . . . unsettling."

Mal snorted derisively. "I'm just glad Inara wasn't here to join the gorram army."

"Yes, it is fortunate. I think she would have been right in there with us."

Mal closed his eyes and swore through his teeth. "Ni ta ma de." His nostrils flared with anger. "I've got trained fighters on this ship--people who know how to handle themselves and how to deal with whatever happens. Why the hell else do we all put up with Jayne? And I don't want the others bein' touched by it. How am I s'posed to keep 'em safe if they keep puttin' themselves in the way?"

"You can't keep people safe all the time, Captain."

"Not if they won't stay where they ought! Tah-mah-duh hwun-dan!" He winced, his left hand going to his chest. He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need 'em to stay safe, Shepherd. You can understand that. What happens to me don't matter, as long as they're safe."

Book had meant to merely encourage Mal to keep talking, but suddenly he was frustrated with the man's insensitive selflessness. "But they care for you. Kaylee won't remain happy and untouched if she loses you. She won't thank you for dying on a cross for her. What do you think will happen to her the day one of your misadventures gets you killed?"

Mal suddenly grinned and laughed, throwing his head back. Book rocked backwards--there was a disturbing edge to that laugh.

"A cross, huh? That's funny, preacher. Really, a knee-slapper. Don't say a thing to 'em, but I already got myself killed."

Book put his hand over his mouth. "Tell me," he murmured through his fingers.

Mal's gaze returned to the stars, and he went on in a flat voice. "At first, I was just plain mad. Mad at Wash, 'cause I never wanted him along. Mad at Zoe for lettin' him come. Mad at myself for lettin' her let him come.

"But right away, I could see that Wash wasn't gonna hold up. As soon as he figured out that it was Niska was grinnin' at us, his eyes went all white and he started shakin'. It was all I could do to keep him focused on me, get him angry at _me_ so he could shut out what was happenin'.

"Then Zoe showed up, like some angel outta your Bible. She was calm and strong and beautiful, and seein' her made Wash panic even more . . . you know, fearin' what Niska might do to her. But I wasn't scared for Zoe--I was scared more'n ever for Wash. I'd been tauntin' Wash 'bout Zoe, and Niska'd been hangin' on every word. He knew, he knew what she and Wash are to each other, and it woulda been just like him to slit Wash open in front of her. But he went for the money. Made her choose. She didn't waste her chance. Did the right thing. She picked Wash and got him out of there."

"But Niska didn't let it end there. That's when he cut your ear off . . . didn't he?" Book gently asked.

Mal fingered his left ear gingerly. "Yeah. But he was just gettin' rollin'. Then he brought out his precious machine and . . . " Mal clutched the dinosaur with both hands, his fingers white. "Well, I won't lie, Preacher. It was bad. But leastwise I was alone. There weren't nobody else he could hurt. And pretty soon he saw that, left alone, he couldn't break me."

Book had never heard such a clear avowal of strength. Horribly, it even sounded convincing.

"Then he got angry, and he went too far . . . and I died."

Book tried to speak, but no words would come to him. He twitched, his hand moving momentarily towards the captain, but something in Mal's calm manner was more frightening than the anger of just moments before.

Mal turned his gaze to the Shepherd, his expression mild. Book felt the bloodshot eyes boring into him. "And then I was resurrected, and when I opened my eyes, I saw my God smiling down at me. And he spake unto me." Mal's voice took on Niska's singsong accent. "_Mr. Reynolds. You died, Mr. Reynolds. I can't hurt you when you die_.

Mal's lip twisted into a sneer. "Lucky for me, I've had a lotta practice telling God to f—"

"Malcolm!" Book didn't want to hear anymore, didn't have any easy comfort or words of faith to offer. The captain's eyes were so empty, it was like looking deep into the Black.

Mal held the Shepherd's eyes for a long moment, and then he smiled and shook his head. "Them stories in your Bible are true, Shepherd. But they don't mean what you think they mean."

Book wanted to turn and run. From a distance, he heard a soft voice calling for the captain, and he seized the distraction. "Up here, Doctor," he called, turning towards the hall and away from the grim humor on Mal's face.

Simon walked through the door, a glass and pills in his hands. "Captain, I've been looking for you. The medications I gave you earlier should be wearing off by now. Are you in much pain?"

Mal carefully placed the stegosaurus upright on the console before looking up at the doctor. He shrugged stiffly.

"Not so much."


End file.
